


I’ve known them already (the eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase)

by missMHO



Series: erlebnisse [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Torture, Sentinel/Guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missMHO/pseuds/missMHO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month since bonding passes before Q comes back to regular work. Two weeks later Bond goes on a short and simple mission. Their bond is ready to endure the separation. </p><p>Nothing can go wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Finally the third story in the series is on! I'm quite excited about it and I hope it'll make up for the dubious quallity of the second part._
> 
> _All the warnings are in the tags, please take them into consideration._
> 
> _Big thank you for[fightyourdragon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightyourdragon/pseuds/Fightyourdragon) for doing the beta job on this one! It's native-friendly now and presents definitely better quality. Bone-crushing hug for you, honey, for your work and patiently putting articles in their respective places :)_
> 
>  
> 
> _The title (again unnecessarly long) is a modified quote from T.S.Eliot._

A month since bonding passes before Q comes back to regular work. Two weeks later Bond goes on a mission, leaving _his_ office chair next to the Quartermaster’s workstation conspicuously empty.

It’s a short mission; three days at most.  Uncomplicated assassination in Poland, extraction of data and erasing it afterwards. Piece of cake. Nothing can go wrong.

Still, Q finds himself unable to really focus on the blueprints of a car for 005’s following assignment. His gaze jumps again and again to the right corner of his laptop’s screen, where a window monitoring the status of Bond’s flight is displayed. He’s not sure what reassures him more – the constant status of the plane’s journey being safe and uneventful or the sting of pain that follows every sudden movement of his head. The bruised mark James bit into the skin of his Guide’s neck this morning is sore and painful.

Their bond is ready to endure the separation; it won’t tear apart without being grounded by touch and closeness. But are they mentally ready? Q isn’t sure about it as he recallsearlier when he was _begging_ James to bite him harder, until the Sentinel drew blood. Should it even be possible for a Sentinel to wound their Guide? Though Q did want it, asked for it. How fucked up are they really?

Q sighs, rolling his shoulders and trying to get rid of the strain in his muscles. He hasn’t been able to relax since James collected his equipment and left Q-Branch. Another sting of pain runs through him, giving a ridiculous and fleeting sense of relief.

Q scolds himself internally and once again shifts his focus onto the blueprints in front of him. He needs to squeeze one more firearm somewhere inside the vehicle.

ж

“Sir?”

Q lifts his head, trying not to snap. He finally managed to get lost in his work. But R can’t be blamed for fulfilling his duties.

“Yes, what is it?”  R looks uncomfortable, clenching the tablet in his hands like some sort of shield. It doesn’t indicate anything good.

“You have been summoned by Mrs. Lambert, sir. She implied you should come to Medical as soon as possible.”

Q flinches. He knew it was coming, but chose to ignore it when it still was just a distant unpleasantness.  “Alright. Reply with an affirmative. I’ll be there in about five minutes,” he says, rolling his shoulders once more to feel the mark. “These blueprints can be collected by Graham. He did good work so far, with those notes he should finish the project by tomorrow. Thank you, R.”

Q looks again at the screen of his laptop. Someone else needs to handle James today since he’s sure he won’t be back quickly. The Guide considers the issue for a few seconds before he approaches the red head rapt with writing lines of code.

“Catherine,” he accosts and waits until she finishes typing and looks up at him.

“Sir?”

“Upgrading this protocol can wait,” Q says as his eyes scan her monitor. “You will handle an agent. He lands in Krakow in twenty minutes and he’ll seek contact with HQ.”

“Of course,” she straightens in her chair. “Which agent?”

“007.”

Her eyes widen, but she composes herself quickly. He wouldn’t blame her if she reacted more expressively. Passing the responsibility of handling his Sentinel must be a shock. Especially as the whole department has been exposed to the freshly bonded pair of them for the past weeks.

“I’ve been summoned,” he says, though he knows he has no obligation of explaining. But a sense of blame fills his chest at the thought of James landing on foreign soil and hearing a voice other than his in the earpiece. Excusing himself out loud makes him feel a little bit better.

“The mission’s identification code is DO12018PL. Good luck.”

Catherine swiftly writes down the string of numbers and letters and nods. “Thank you, sir.”

Q exchanges a last gaze with R, reassuring himself that his second in command will control the work during his absence. Then he leaves, choosing the staircase instead of the lift. He needs a few more minutes.

Q has met Lambert a few times before. They were never pleasant experiences.

Lambert is essentially a part of the Medical but she and her male Guide are treated as an independent unit. MI-6’s preternaturals are not subjected to the ISGA - International Sentinels and Guides Association - the supervision over them is shifted to SIS the moment their clearance reaches a certain level. That is the reason why Q couldn’t refuse her summoning. Although hierarchy of the agency puts them equally, Q can’t oppose her as a Guide. Unless he wants to be tagged as Guide-gone-rogue. It’s that awfully simple.

They are _the_ Sentinel and _the_ Guide of the agency, hated by all other Sentinels and Guides that ever come into contact with them. A couple comprised of a psychiatrist and a psychologist with a disturbing atmosphere embracing them, almost never seen without one another.  Though Q doesn’t remember ever talking with the Guide; it’s always Lambert who’s holding the meetings. Q’s not sure if anyone even knows his name, he’s just Lambert’s Guide, a constant silent companion by her side. Both are fair haired and brown eyed, of similar height, which gives a sibling-like look to them. Both are evenly obsessed with analysing other preternaturals.

Since their first encounter with Q, the pair fixated on his abilities of a Guide - too eager to test and poke at his empathy. But he never agreed, finding his escape in the fact that any experiments on unbonded Guides can’t be conducted without their consent, as it may impair their mentality without the grounding that a bond provides. Now, Q lacks that excuse. What’s more, Q is fairly sure Lambert got her hands on the surveillance showing how he zoned out Ewens without touch while the Sentinel was feral. That ‘achievement’ is surely going to be troublesome now.

Q takes a deep breath and double-checks his mental shields before he enters Lambert’s office.

ж

Bond is slightly twitchy as he waits for his baggage to appear on the carousel. He feels the lack of his Guide’s presence, though it’s not the same longing he felt before the bonding. It used to be a nagging emptiness that messed with his senses. Now his senses are untouched, sharper than ever, but there’s this sensation as though something is wrong with the air he’s breathing in and his surroundings have become hostile and unwelcoming.

When the Sentinel finally leaves the airport, he instantly delves in his pocket for the earpiece. He’s tapping with his foot impatiently, waiting for the connection with the headquarters.

“007.”

That’s not the voice he expected. That’s not the voice of his Guide.

“Where’s Q?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Q is not here, sir,” answers the same female on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean?” Bond asks while he’s trying to attach a face and a name to the voice. Catherine. Red head, a little older than Q, sitting on the left side of Quartermaster’s workstation. Good at programming, though not so skilled at manual work with firearms, or so says Q.

“He’s in Medical at the moment. I am to handle the mission in his absence.”

James feels panic suddenly nesting in his chest. Medical? There must be some bureaucratic reason. Q isn’t hurt. Q can’t be hurt. James would know, he would feel it through the bond-- wouldn’t he?  “Why is he in Medical?” He tries his hard to hide the aggressive edge to his voice. He needs Catherine un-spooked and cooperating.

“Q was summoned by Mrs. Lambert, sir.”

The Sentinel isn’t sure if he’s relieved or even more alarmed. Q is alright, but Bond knows well how malicious everything about Lambert is. And they’re going to be interfering with Q - he’s too extraordinary a Guide for his own good. But why now?

They were waiting for Bond’s absence, he realizes bitterly. They knew he wouldn’t allow anything that could upset Q. Now he’s there alone, obliged to follow the orders of a superior Sentinel.

He clenches his hands into fists and tries to let go of this overpowering feeling of helplessness.  Q is his brilliant Guide. He will get through this. And Bond clutches onto this thought, aware that he needs to carry on.

ж

“Good afternoon, Guide Bond,” Lambert says.  Q can’t hide how taken aback he is at being addressed by such title. “Please take a seat.”

Calling a Guide by his preternatural species followed by a surname of their Sentinel is a custom rarely used in everyday life nowadays, still present only among old lineages and applied by officials from ISGA. It’s a tradition derived from the times when Guides were treated as creatures destined to be owned by their Sentinels. Back then, once bonded and serving their primal purpose, a Guides’ own identity no longer mattered.

Q despises the very thought of those narrow-minded times, but being called ‘Guide Bond’ gives him a bitter-sweet aftertaste. He’s proud to be James’ and that’s the only surname he may have now – as his own was traded for a letter. But from Lambert’s lips, it sounds _wrong_ , almost mocking.

“Good afternoon,” Q answers dryly and sits down. He feels her Guide probing at him, the tendrils of his empathy trying to sneak past his Quartermaster’s shields. It’s quite offensive, especially since the other Guide has an advantage in the presence of his Sentinel. However, he gets nothing. It only triggers the anger inside Q to grow.

“As you probably expect, we wanted to examine you as your status has recently changed.”

Q nods, keeping the eye contact with Lambert, even though he feels his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“Your skills were quite remarkable even before, that’s why we think the regular examination would not suffice.”

That doesn’t sound good. Actually, Q has to focus on controlling his breathing. He is able to handle the stress while handling missions with agents’ lives at stake, but the prospect of these two poking at his empathy - and not by regular methods - is quite terrifying.

“Please, _explain._ ”

“We would like to explore your ability to affect Sentinels without haptic connection,” Lambert elucidates and her Guide leans his head a little to the left, watching the other Guide with something too inhuman in his gaze. “We have a certain unbonded Sentinel on our hands. He is a double agent, a traitor who sold another SIS agent to the Russians. But he won't cooperate even after unveiling his crimes. It’s known he has a partner, another mole in the agency – and it must be revealed who he is.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Q queries impatiently. He doesn’t like where all this is going. He’s too smart not to expect what comes next.

“ _You_ will be the one to convince him to talk. Of course, the procedure will be accomplished by using your empathy only.”

"You want me to _torture_ a Sentinel?" Q clenches his hands into fists. He wants to smash a keyboard into Lambert's unmoved face, but instead he gazes at her long red nails.

"He is an enemy to the agency and this _is_ an order, Quartermaster."

“What if I do not accede? What consequences will I face?”  He won’t agree. He can’t agree. He’s just a technician, not an agent. He’s not made for this.

“Then your Sentinel will be summoned for the examination instead. We need one of you inspected after the bonding.” Her unaffected mien doesn’t change, but her eyes sparkle with satisfaction. She knows she’s already won.

Q feels sick at the very thought of James being examined by these two. Tests performed on Sentinels are more physical and very invasive. After the Quartermaster’s non-consensual behaviour at the moment, the pair will surely make them even more unpleasant, if not painful. And Lambert is aware that Q understands all that. Q is quite sure that this first real separation with his Sentinel is clouding his judgement of the situation, but damn it all, if there is any chance to prevent the occurrence of James being probed at by Lambert, he will take it.  “If I concede now, you will _not_ test my Sentinel?”

She smiles and it suddenly feels like signing a pact with the devil.

ж

Bond is strolling through Krakow's old town, following his target. He almost forgot how these parts of Polish cities are delightful to visit. They have a calming atmosphere, making one slow his pace and simply take in the place. It soothes him a little, though at the same time he can't shake off the regret that his Guide isn't here with him. He has been so stressed out for last couple of days...

He sighs and takes a seat in a cafe opposite to the restaurant where the target stopped for dinner. A waitress approaches James a minute later, offering the menu. He asks for a black coffee and smiles a little at the strong slavic accent in the waitress' English. It's been a while since he was abroad.

Bond must stop himself from grinning when he realizes how easy it is for him to use his senses now. He sees the target with detail despite the distance and window glass in between. When he focuses on hearing, he can make out what the man will have for his main meal. It’s astonishing. He was always a bit afraid to stretch his senses this much, but right now he doesn’t feel even close to zoning out. It’s simply remarkable. Is this what he’s been missing throughout all these years of solitude? He’s suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to gather his Guide into his arms and thank him for _being_.  And it’s a fairly easy mission. How valuable will this new capacity be during more dangerous situations? He feels a shiver of anticipation at the thought.

The agent is taking the first sip of his coffee when, out of nowhere, an overwhelming mixture of  anxiety and anger fills him, running through his veins like venom and he almost drops the cup.

Q. Those feelings are Q’s. It seems Lambert is not wasting her time. She's fully taking advantage of Bond's absence.

But James can't think about it right now. He has a job to do and he can't fail. The agency is already sceptical about them; they can't give them more reasons for doubt. They said they are capable of doing their job and they won’t prove otherwise. Even though Bond wants to fly back to England this very moment, he _will_ finish the assignment first. They’ll endure.

ж

Q is standing in front of a one-way mirror, gazing at the unbonded Sentinel on the other side. David Miller. The traitor he’s about to torture. He doesn’t look dangerous, but Q knows a thing or two about being underestimated.  "How do you even imagine it?" Q tries for the last time to get away from the task. "How am I supposed to make him talk? Isn't it a Sentinel's role to torture?"

"It's _not_ torture, Guide Bond. It's convincing to cooperate." She smiles nastily. "And your IQ says you’re a genius; I'm sure you'll come up with something."

Q takes a deep breath and bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snapping at her. Of course he'll come up with something. He already has.

He will reach with his empathy, invade at emotional level, dig up the primal need to bond, grasp it and exaggerate. It's the worst feeling that any unbonded Guide and Sentinel can imagine and every preternatural learns to hide it deep inside of him. Poking at it is like tearing one's soul to shreds.  Q rolls his shoulders for the minute reassurance the sore mark may give, then turns to Lambert and nods.

ж

Alarm rises inside of Bond once again. His target is taking his time with the meal, now apparently waiting for the check while finishing his tiramisu. Bond is halfway through his second cup of coffee and once again he needs to focus on the aim of his mission in order not to bolt to the nearest airport.

Then rage mixed with terror fills him, boiling inside. He doesn’t want to think about what’s happening between his Guide and Lambert now. He tries to think about Q and somehow reassure him throughout the bond, even if he has no guarantee it’ll work.

He recalls their last encounter, in the Quartermaster’s office, saying their goodbye after the agent was given his equipment. A kiss that turned into a desperate act, Bond sinking his teeth into the pale skin of Q’s neck, his Guide writhing in his embrace, _begging_ him to bite harder, his fingers tugging frantically at the short blond hair. The instinct to protect was stopping the Sentinel from bringing any hurt to his partner but then it seemed to be overridden by a frantic chant of _please do it harder do it do it please_ projected by his Guide and he tasted blood in his mouth.

It feels good to know Q is marked once again and he can only hope it gives his Guide some sort of support at the moment.

The target leaves the restaurant and Bond moves after him.

ж

Miller looks confused when they enter the interrogation room, but then he sniffs the air and grins.

“A Guide? You’re going to sacrifice a Guide to convince me to talk?” He laughs dryly. “Pity won’t make me spill anything.”

At first Q frowns at those words, but the realisation comes swiftly. Miller thinks they want to play on his primal need to protect Guides, _any_ Guides – that Q is the one to be tortured in front of him.

Lambert tuts. “This Guide doesn’t need to be sacrificed to make you talk.”

The Sentinel starts at that and focuses his gaze on Q. “I won’t let any Guide touch me.”

The smile that spreads across Lambert’s lips makes the Quartermaster’s stomach flip uncomfortably.

“ _That_ also won’t be necessary,” she states and nods at Q. The Guide takes a seat and for a moment allows himself to imagine he isn’t in an interrogation room but the arms of his Sentinel and the thought alone seems to give him strength.

He needs to focus. He hasn’t forced entry into anyone’s mind since his training as a Guide when he was a teenager. It was never especially hard task for him, but still, he’s nervous. Also, he has no idea how strong his empathy is now. Being bonded improved its prowess, but the separation...  He has no idea where he stands now as a Guide.

And then Q closes his eyes and attempts bringing mental agony to this stranger at the other side of the table.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part will be posted in a few days :)


	2. Chapter 2

Bond is driven by a ridiculous need to rush. He was supposed to gather data today, plan and set everything at night and strike next evening. But now this arrangement does not apply anymore. His Guide needs him.

Why does it have to happen during their first separation? Leaving Q alone was hard, yes, but if he’d been a voice in his ear right now and not pressured by Lambert, it would all be so much easier. The unawareness of exact state of his Guide is an itch in Bond’s skull that won’t go away.

His new plan is far from neat but Bond does not care anymore. It’s not like he’s known for elegant resolutions.

ж

Violating the mind of another preternatural is like plunging into a dark ocean. It doesn’t embrace you with hospitality, but presses onto you with all its strength, pushes you out. It’s easy to get lost in its vastness and sublimity, follow the secrets that allure you like siren song, ready to clutch you with their profundity and never let go, suffocate you with the promise of delicious discovery. You’re always an unwanted guest unless it’s your bonded partner’s mind you visit. And it’s _after_ you overstep the shields and defences, and are exhausted when you enter, you’re starting to be in danger.

Q has to dive deeply into Miller’s mind. His primal need to bond would be hidden near the bottom, neighbouring to his worst fears. A place where it’s too easy to forget yourself and never emerge. Invading mind this deeply should not be performed without an anchor. And Q’s anchor is somewhere in the middle Europe. Still, he keeps on diving.

He slithers by nightmares and unwanted memories, doesn’t linger and doesn’t look back, he can’t afford getting distracted. He tries his hard to stay focused on the aim, but then, suddenly he chokes on the sense of being unwanted as it mirrors his own too much. He almost loses himself, once again an abandoned boy, rejected and lonely--

_Two pairs of eyes staring at him from above. “You're no longer a child, we know you understand.”_

He drowns.

Then a miserable howl of a wolf awakens him and shoves him to escape.

He finds _it_ in the thickest darkness, and takes it into his empathic fingers. He hesitates only for a moment - there’s an apprehension about an absent man with blue eyes whom he can protect by causing pain to another - and then crushes _it_ , letting the pieces float.

His work is done, he muses, as he observes the emptiness and the agony spreading all around him.

Q emerges into reality filled with pleading and sobbing of a man and for a long moment, he doesn’t know where he is.

“Please, make it stop, _please_ , it’s too much, you can’t do this to me--” the broken male voice continues and Q slowly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

The interrogation room, Miller, Lambert, the ultimatum securing James...

Oh, and he’s the one who caused the Sentinel in front of him to curl up on the floor and weep miserably. Q is thankful he’s sitting because he isn’t sure his legs could hold him right now. He feels sick. He needs air. He needs to get away from here. He needs James.

“ _Please_ , I’ll tell you everything, just make it stop--”

Q feels it, to a degree, even though he tries to shield himself. The impossible hollowness swallowing Miller, the sense of solitude and isolation, the same mental pain Q struggled with for half of his life, but exaggerated to the extent that is impossible to bear.

“Kill me, but make it stop--”

Lambert finally reacts. “You will tell us everything?”

“Yes, whatever you want, everything, but _please_ \--”

She smiles at the answer with hideous satisfaction and puts a hand on Q’s shoulder. “Guide, will you?”

“May I touch him now? It’ll be easier. The previous measure was exhausting,” he asks, grateful for how steady his voice sounds. He wants the experiment to run in accordance to Lambert’s rules, to be completed once and for all, but he needs her to say yes now. He’s already feeling light-headed and he _won’t_ lose consciousness and be left at her mercy.

Lambert nods with some reluctance and Q stands up instantly and approaches Miller to kneel by him.

“No, _not you_ , don’t touch me, you _monster_!”

Q’s hand stops midair for a split second and he feels how his whole body begins to tremble. He clenches his teeth and takes a deep breath. He can’t show weakness - at least not yet.

He rests his hand on the Sentinel’s cheek, feeling the streams of tears under his fingers and projects as much comfort and reassurance as possible. He submerges once again, hastily gathering all the pieces and the despair and puts it back where it belongs, closed away in the depth and the darkness.

Q almost loses his balance as he surfaces and he can’t focus his sight for a moment too long. Miller’s features filled with raw relief finally clear in front of him and he recoils his hand. He mouths silent _I’m sorry_ before standing up and facing Lambert.

“Is that all?” Q asks with a plain voice. He’s not sure he will make it if there’s anything more to be done. And he certainly won’t allow her Guide to nudge at his empathy now.

“Yes, that’s all, Guide. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Q doesn’t speak anymore and simply leaves the room.

ж

Q is quite grateful it is R, and not any mere technician, who discovers him in Q-Branch’s loo after he has been retching there for the last fifteen minutes. The Guide’s body can’t deal with what he put it through in that interrogation room and ever since he left it, he hasn’t been able to return to work.

“Sir, are you alright?”

R sounds concerned but Q sees how lost he is and doesn’t blame him. Humans don’t know how preternatural tests are conducted and what reaction they may cause.

“I’m alright-- Getting better, I mean,” the Guide tries to smile but he’s sure it looks like a miserable parody of it. “It’s just food poisoning.”

R frowns and Q knows he doesn’t believe him. But he’s a good assistant and doesn’t ask questions when they’re not welcome.

“I’d better come back to work now,” Q says, convincing R as well as himself that he’s up to it. He stands up from the floor where he was kneeling in front of the toilet and slowly walks to the sinks. R watches him in silence when he washes his hands and face.

“I’ll be in my office in case anyone needs me,” the Guide announces and turns to leave, but stops with a hand on the handle.  "Oh, and R," Q says turning once again towards his second in command. "Get someone to bring me a cup of tea. Strong, with at least four sugars." Q doesn't like abusing his superior position like that, but today, he honestly doesn't care anymore.

"Of course, sir."

He doesn’t head straight to his office though, but approaches Catherine first. “How’s the mission going?”

His over sensitive empathy senses the anxiety before it paints on her face.

“007 reported after the landing and it all started smoothly, he managed to locate the target, but then,” she finally looks up at him. “About half an hour ago, he aborted any communication with HQ.”

Q sighs heavily. He’s sure it’s his fault. What happened with Miller - it must have upset their bond somehow. Now that he’s gradually calming down, he can actually discern the worry that doesn’t quite feel like his own. He can only hope it won’t become too intense and James won’t go feral somewhere in Poland.

“I’ll assume supervision over the mission from now on,” Q finally says. “Thank you, Catherine. You may go back to your previous assignment.”

Q sits down heavily onto his office chair, grateful for the walls that conceal him from the rest of the department. He doesn’t want his minions to see him weak.

He tries one time to restore the line of communication with James and when itproves unsuccessful, he decides he can’t torment himself with that and desperately looks for something to work on. After briefly browsing through his drawers, the Guide comes across a hard drive that 003 brought in yesterday from Switzerland. It’s a bit melted in one corner, but some data should still be retrievable. It’s exactly what Q needs at the moment.

ж

The knock on the door makes Q jump but he quickly finds his equilibrium, hides his shaking hands under the desk and calls out to come in.

It’s 005, strolling in without a care in the world and Q can sense the post-mission adrenaline high still filling him.

“What do you want?” the Guide asks, not troubling himself with courtesies. An unbonded boasting Sentinel is the last person he wants to encounter now.

“Bad day, Quartermaster? I’ve brought you something,” the agent replies and puts a USB drive on Q’s desk. “You told me earlier to deliver it directly to you.”

Q nods, recalling the instruction. He wanted to decrypt this data by himself as it was uncertain if any of the technicians have the clearance for what may be among those files.

“Good. Did you bring the rest of the equipment as well?”

005 laughs briefly. “Well, you know how it is, Quartermaster. This trick with good and bad news? I started with the good ~~.~~ ” The Sentinel buries his hand in jacket’s pocket and reveals a smashed electronic lockpick that Q had been mastering for months.

“And the gun?” the Guide queries through clenched teeth.

005 shrugs, the silly smile doesn’t leave his lips and Q snaps.

“Has your head received too many blows in your miserable life, Sentinel? Do you think this is Toys R Us? How many times do I have to explain that this gear does _not_ grow on trees? I understand you’re not taking it for picnics with your mom, but for god’s sake, show some bloody respect for our work! Stop giggling like it’s _nothing_ when you’re delivering scraps instead of equipment! I may not be your equal, you swaggering preternatural, but _I will not be mocked_.”

The agent’s mien finally loses its cockiness, but he doesn’t yield to the bluster. He inhales to retort, but Q is quicker.

“Shut up and leave or I swear I’ll make you zone out and lock you up in the office.”

The Sentinel clenches his hands into fists but doesn’t speak. Every preternatural in MI-6 has heard how Q zoned out Ewens and in what circumstances.

“Good bye, Quartermaster.”

The moment the doors are shut, Q drops into his chair and sighs heavily. He’s not sure what scares him more - that he’s just fallen out with an unstable double-oh or the fact that he was ready to hurt another Sentinel.  

‘Monster’, huh?

ж

The smell of blood is heavy in the air and the Sentinel almost zones out, choking on the copper scent. The sticky redness on his fingers fills him with ill delight and disgust at the same time - and maybe he should zone out after all and end his miserable existence.

But the thought of green intelligent eyes recalls him from the edge and clears the fog from his gaze. He has a purpose now. The missions are no longer potentially suicidal. Old habits die hard in the end. How long will it take him to remember that there’s someone worth going back to now? Someone who will _always_ welcome him.

The overfocus on smell fades in favour of his surroundings sharpening at last. Bond takes in the three bodies lying on the beige carpet. The target and two bodyguards, one of the latter a Sentinel. All of them have their throats ripped out and Bond once again concentrates on the stickiness on his hands and feels fragments of shred tissue there along with the drying blood.

And earlier he was planning to finish the job _neatly_.

ж

The metallic aftertaste fills his mouth without warning, gagging Q and breaking his concentration. He automatically checks the skin under his nose, fearing that his previous empathy strain may be still paying off, but there’s no blood. The unmistakable scent hits his nostrils, but there is none on him.

It must be Bond then. He must be surrounded by blood. And he still hasn’t contacted Headquarters.

Q really hopes it’s not Bond’s blood that he still tastes on his tongue.

He tries to come back to his duel with lines of code, but the concentration won’t come back. That’s the moment when  R enters his office and tells him to go home and _rest_.

Maybe for once he should actually take that advice. The Q-Branch is almost empty anyhow.

 ж

Q doesn’t remember how he got to the tube. The longer he stays without distraction, the stronger the feelings from the interrogation room are. All the emotions that the Guide poked at are haunting him now - the ghosts roaming his empathy. He went too deep without an anchor.

The ride is a blur, but as he exits the station he’s awakened by the unexpected downpour that efficiently drenches him all the way to the flat. He’s wet and cold and his hands tremble when he unlocks the door. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

He takes off the wet jumper and shirt in order to change into Bond’s button-down shirt that is still lying in the corner of the bedroom from the previous evening. It’s rumpled and smells of the Sentinel and that’s exactly what Q needs. After that, he climbs into their bed, still in soaked trousers, and curls up there, trying to create an illusion of James’ presence.

Miller’s loneliness is infecting his empathy, dimming his own feeling of being bonded, wanted, protected. He knows it doesn’t belong to him - this continuing twinge inside of him - but he can’t fight it. He’s too strained after that session in interrogation room and his Sentinel is too far away to fix it.

It was too early for such experiments. He’s been bonded for six weeks and waiting for void in his chest to be filled for fourteen years. This disproportion is his enemy now, makes it too easy to forget how balanced he’s been for the last weeks. Miller’s desolation is mixing with his own, drowning him in despair he should not experience anymore. He can’t breathe.

There’s a distant buzzing sound somewhere in the room and his overworked brain supplies that it’s his mobile ringing. It was ringing before as he was exiting the tube, but he didn’t want to expose it to the heavy rain and then he got distracted by all this mess in his head. He feels he should pick it up, but even moving his fingers seems like an impossible challenge now. He’s so cold and even his lungs don’t want to cooperate.

Q registers a movement next to him and sees a silhouette of a grey wolf tucking in next to him, trying to enfold him with his ubiquity. Q lets out a choked sob, wishing he could bury his face in the immaterial fur. Nevertheless, the presence seems to alleviate his state, allowing him to take deeper breaths.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next and last chapter will be posted somewhere around the weekend :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I was supposed to post this on Sunday. But I'm nice and decided to shower you with comfort a bit sooner :)_

Bond’s sets off from Heathrow, driving in a direction of Vauxhall Cross with illicit speed, filled with a feeling he’s already freaking late. He drives one-handed, ignoring any safety rules, as he’s dialing Q at the same time. He’s already tried before, while still at the airport in Poland, but then the flight created a gap in his attempts of communication. Now that he’s out of the plane again, he’s been trying to reach his Guide almost constantly.

Q always picks up his phone. Why isn’t he answering now? _Fuck._

He swears vigorously when suddenly the Russian Blue appears on the dashboard, hissing at the Sentinel, once again scolding him. Bond swiftly gets the message - he’s not only late, but also heading in the wrong direction. He takes a dangerous turn, gets honked at and rushes towards the flat.

He’s running after he exits the car and doesn’t stop until he’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom.

Q is lying on the bed curled into fetal position, and Bond’s spirit is right there, trying to substitute for the Sentinel as much as it’s able to. Q’s green eyes are blank, absently gazing at wolf’s twitching ears. Bond feels an enormous weight drop suddenly onto his chest.

He approaches slowly, takes off his shoes and joins his Guide on the bed. It’s like Q doesn’t even realise that someone else is in the room. Only when the Sentinel extends his hand to brush the hair out of his lover’s eyes does he start.

“Don’t touch me, I’ll hurt you,” Q whispers. His hand lying on the pillow, where spirit’s paw would be if it was corporal, clenches into fist. “I can’t hurt _you_ \--”

“Shh, you won’t hurt me,” Bond says and this time doesn’t hesitate to put his palm onto his Guide’s neck. Q leans into the touch instantly. The Sentinel lies down parallel with the other man and leaves a brief kiss on his forehead. They need the touch to ground themselves, but the agent feels that in Q’s current condition, he needs to divide it into doses.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” Q mumbles. “It’s me who screwed up.”

Bond feels it’s not the moment to ask questions, but he also can’t reconcile with the state Q’s in, so he dares to get closer and nuzzle his nose into his Guide’s neck. The scent is like a salve and he can’t stop savouring, and his Guide seems to derive as much comfort from the act as him. When his nose crosses the bruised mark his own teeth left only this morning (and it seems ages ago now), Q whimpers desperately. The Sentinel takes it as a sign he can take another step.

“You’re trembling,” James says. He sniffs his Guide’s scent once again and - there it is – a smell of rain clutching to the Quartermaster. “You walked to the flat in the rain?”

Q nods.

“And you decided to just sit here in drenched clothes?”

Q nods again and James kisses his temple affectionately.  “You’re trembling from cold,” he repeats. “Let’s warm you up, okay?”

He gathers his Guide into his arms and stands up. Q doesn’t grumble about being carried to the bathroom this time. The Sentinel removes clothes for them both and guides Q into the shower. They stay silent, allowing their bond to re-establish itself, embrace them with the comfort of its mere presence. Bond washes his Guide’s hair with care, probably for the first time doing it for another person without even a bit of erotic context, but simply for comfort. They stay under the stream of steaming water until the Sentinel is satisfied with his Guide’s body temperature. Then he allows Q to wear the same crumpled shirt he was wearing while waiting for Bond and they come back to bed. Bond sits his Guide down on his lap and Q instantaneously wraps his limbs around the other man.

"Tell me what happened," the Sentinel requests quietly.

Q doesn’t know where to start. How to put it all into words? So he follows his instincts, leans even closer so their foreheads touch, and dives into James’ mind. It's so different from invading Miller's-– here, he's welcomed and there are no threats.

It's truly blissful.

Bond feels how his Guide's empathy enters his mind and at first he's afraid he'll subconsciously deny him the access. But nothing like that happens. They're fully compatible now. One soul in two bodies.

After a perfect moment of simply _being together_ at such profound level (moment or eternity; time passes peculiarly in this non-physical connection), Q starts to answer his query, paints it for him with glimpses of memories and emotions.

 

_“Guide Bond.”_

_“If I comply now, you will not test my Sentinel?”_

_Lambert smiles devilishly._

_Sentinel in an interrogation room._

_“I won’t let any Guide touch me.”_

_Diving into stranger's mind. The hostile emotions surrounding him._

_Sudden stop at the **rejection**. Miller’s mixing with his own._

_A man and a woman looking down at him._

_“You were always different.”_

_Rejection. Hurt._

_“You must understand our decision.”_

_That's not how you treat a child._

_“You're no longer a child, we know you understand.”_

_Only fourteen and always lonely._

_Am I a **monster** to you? Am I not your son?_

_Howl of a grey wolf._

_Sentinel sobbing on the ground._

_“Make it stop.” Allow me to make it stop._

_“You **monster**.”_

_005's playfulness changing into bewilderment._

_“I swear I’ll make you zone out and lock you up in the office.”_

 

They're both breathing raggedly upon emerging into physical world again.

"I'm sorry I'm so weak, James," Q's murmur is emotional and wavering and he suddenly reminds Bond of a lost child. "Only a burden--"

"No, you are _not_ ," the Sentinel retorts and takes Q's face into his hands to force him to look into his eyes. "You're one of the most powerful Guides in the world. You're the most brilliant man I've ever met. You're a gorgeous Guide that fought for me. You're a lot of things, Q, but you're not weak and never a burden."

Q buries his face in the other man's neck. "I shouldn't have lost it today." He knows he should stop talking but he can't. "I should be stronger. It was pathetic."

Bond sighs. He feels the self-hatred behind those words and he can’t allow Q to feel it ever again. "Do you even realise what you've done today?"

"I destroyed a Sentinel and threatened another?"

"You shouldn't have survived what you've done to Miller. And then you endured so long, all alone-- And you did this for me. You did more than any Sentinel can require from their Guide.” He leaves a brief kiss on Q’s cheek. “We're preternaturals, not gods. And you are extraordinary, but not invincible."

Q takes a deep breath. James is right. Of course he's right. His words and presence are gradually grounding him; he’s becoming lodged in reality once again.

"You have questions," Q murmurs after a few minutes. He's still nuzzled into Bond's neck, his eyes closed. The bond is harmonizing and the Sentinel's emotions are gaining measurable labels. It’s so good to understand each other with fewer and fewer words. If it wasn’t for today’s fiasco, how tuned in with each other would they already be?

"What you showed me earlier," Bond speaks without rush, carefully choosing his words. "Those weren't only memories from today. Some were older."

"I believe you've seen some snippets from when my parents abandoned me after discovering I'm a preternatural. Miller's similar memories evoked my own." Q's voice is even, but Bond feels how uncomfortable the topic is. Still, he needs to know - and Q senses that need and delivers. "When I was fourteen, my Guide nature awakened. My parents thought of _us_ as freaks of nature— And I was always a difficult child, too mature for my own good and preferred machines to people a bit too soon," he sighs as his shaking hands start to nervously play with buttons of his Sentinel's shirt. "After they realised _what_ I am, I was dispossessed and sent to a facility for young preternaturals. One of those for the ones who can’t control their gift - or burden as some would say. I ran away after a week.”

Bond wants to know more but doesn’t push for now. Q doesn’t need to speak out loud his plea to leave that topic for a time being.

“You know you’re no longer alone, don’t you?” Bond speaks quietly, his face buried in the wet curls next to his Guide’s ear. “I know I’m broken, but we have each other now. You’re always wanted, Q. And never _ever_ again think of yourself as a monster.”

Q inhales sharply, but can’t find the words that want to leave with his next exhale. But he doesn’t need to. Bond feels the relief and paralyzing comfort that floods the previous anxiety.

The Sentinel’s embrace becomes even more tight when he braces himself and stutters a quiet “I love you”, because he needs Q to understand - that it’s not a feeling conditioned by their bond, but a sincere affection for him as a wondrous and beautiful person; that Q is the most important thing in his life at every possible level.

The Guide tenses in the other man’s arms. How could such a disastrous day have turned into one of the most precious nights? Is that the sublimity of life after bonding?

Q finds himself unable to form a reply, the words don’t seem to do justice to any of his feelings. So he allows himself to follow his instincts once more and lets his empathy entangle their minds, lets them feel the unity of their souls, lets the Sentinel _feel_ the pure reciprocation of his affection instead of putting it into words.

“That was--” Bond starts but it’s really not something that can be described using human lexicon. So he just mirrors the smile that spreads across the other man’s lips. Q can’t stop grinning.  He’s unable to imagine the world without their bond again and he giggles into James’ shoulder. He’s back from that highway to hell.  Miller and his invasive fears seem like a distant nightmare now. He’s back.

“Thank you,” Q says, his smile turning more tender.

“You know you don’t need to thank me for anything.”

 _It who we are now_ , comes without actually voicing it.

The excitement about the development of their bond fills them concurrently and they kiss sloppily, still beaming. Then it turns more passionate and James removes the crumpled shirt from Q’s shoulders, discards it on the floor and then turns them around so that the other man is lying under him.

Bond leaves a trail of gentle kisses on Q's forehead, as if he's made of the most fragile glass. It makes a sublime contrast with the stubble that scratches the Guide's brows in tandem with the caress. And it's good, it makes it all more real, and real is what Q needs; it’s placing him in the moment, in his skin, among the feelings his Sentinel is delivering. Q sighs contentedly and pulls his Sentinel in to join their mouths again, allowing their tongues another dance until they’re out of breath.

James’ lips rarely leave his Guide’s skin. He once again records the taste and texture of Q’s body under his tongue, though he already knows it all by heart. Q puts one of his hands on the back of his Sentinel’s head, enjoys the brush of short hair against his palm and fingers as the other rests above the shoulder blade, feeling the muscles moving under the tanned skin. He trembles quietly under James’ touch, allows his lover to take him apart, knowing he’ll come back resurrected.

Usually their sex is rough and desperate, ending in bruised marks blossoming on the Guide’s pale skin and nail scratches on the Sentinel’s already scarred body, as if they still can’t get enough of each other after such long wait to finally be joined together. But it’s not what Q craves tonight and his Sentinel senses that and provides his partner with what he truly needs. The crisis is averted, but the wound is still fresh. And perhaps it’s what James needs too. Their needs all seem to coincide and blur into one entity now.

Bond reaches for the bottle of lubricant on the bedside table, arching over his Guide. Q seizes the opportunity to leave open-mouthed kisses over the defined muscles of Bond’s stomach, his hand brushing over the nipples. “Impatient?” the Sentinel asks playfully. He gets the answer in the hungry gaze of green eyes that bore into him as he returns to his previous position over the other man. _I simply still can’t get enough of you._

James growls deep in his throat at the sight, his preternatural side dominating as he leans in to bite Q’s reddened lips and then lick his way into his Guide’s mouth. Q braces his hands against the mattress and heaves himself to join their hips. The Sentinel hisses in surprise when their erections rub against each other. “Yes, quite impatient,” he murmurs, pushing his Guide down on the sheets.

Q moans quietly at the sensation of cool lubricant against his entrance and then wriggles against the Sentinel’s finger slowly pushing into him. “Oh, yes,” he hums, clenching his hands on James’ shoulders. 

As he adds a second finger, Bond’s tongue slips over the bruise on his Guide’s neck, the one he left before going to Krakow, the one that kept Q sane during his absence, and Q’s nails sink into his biceps, leaving half-moon shaped evanescent marks. He keeps exploring that area until he’s sure that his lover is ready. Bond smiles, pleased when a desperate whimper escapes Q as the agent withdraws his three fingers.

As the Sentinel enters his Guide’s body, he once again does not rush. He positions himself and pushes slowly in, his nose brushing against Q’s temple. The Guide wraps his legs around Bond’s waist, his hands moving to rest above agent’s shoulder blades. Once he’s fully inside, James stops to kiss the other man, briefly but heatedly, and then finally starts moving.

It’s still an unbelievable act for them. Their hearts speeding up with the same rhythm, the pleasure merging between them, their bodies finally joined as one as their souls are, their bond reinforcing. Bond’s moves back and forth almost painfully slowly, his hips moving with fluid motions, swiftly diminishing his Guide’s world to only the two of them and the sensations they share.

When his Sentinel speeds up, his thrusts becoming more abrupt but still maintaining the right angle, Q starts murmuring James’ name and then moans loudly as his climax hits. Bond fucks him through it, but as his Guide becomes limp in his arms, he slows down almost to stillness.

“No, don’t stop, come for me,” Q says in a blissful voice, nudging his hips and deriving a groan from James’ throat.  The Sentinel kisses his Guide and hastens his movements once again. It doesn’t take long before Q stops breathing for a moment upon feeling Bond coming inside of him.

ж

When Bond wakes up Q is already awake, his lips curved into a gentle smile. The Sentinel can’t suppress a smile himself when he looks into those green eyes and sees the same witty boy who talked back to him in the art gallery and who manages double-ohs and a Branch of half-geniuses. The irrational fear from yesterday is fully gone and Bond can’t stop himself from ruffling the brown curls only to be met with a snort and an unrestrained chuckle. It’s like being welcomed back home.

“How are you?” Bond asks, because as much as he enjoys this idyllic moment, he’s also an overprotective prick and he can’t help himself.

“I’m fine,” Q replies and lifts himself to straddle the other man’s lap. “And I would be _absolutely_ fine if my Sentinel shagged me senseless before work.”

Bond grins predatorily. He recalls how he had wondered if they’re really compatible before the bonding. Now he looks into Q’s eyes and knows they’re a perfect match.

Q bows to brush his lips against James’ and whispers, “I know, we’re bloody lucky,” before they join in a proper kiss.

 _Bloody lucky_. Yes. That seems the best way to put it, Bond muses as he indulges in the kiss, but then, too early, Q halts with last nip at the Sentinel’s lower lip and rises with a sly smile. He slides down his lover’s body and without a warning closes his mouth around the Sentinel’s cock and Bond’s mind goes comfortably blank for the time being.

ж

Bond parks his car in MI-6’s underground car park and Q is hit with the sudden realisation that his Sentinel won’t head to be debriefed after the mission in Poland, but will actually want to go somewhere usually he has to be manhandled to.

“James--” Q says in a tired voice. The agent turns towards him and it’s all that’s needed. The wordless understanding arises between them.

 _Yes_ , Bond will go to Lambert and he’ll tell her what he thinks about her. _No_ , he won’t be subtle about it. _Yes_ , he must do this or it’ll keep him up at night... And finally, _yes_ , Q is going with him and the Sentinel can’t try to stop him.

They end up entering Medical side by side and the nurse at the entrance at first stutters something about having an earlier arranged appointment, but after she meets the gazes of ice blue and green eyes, she lowers her head and doesn’t interfere anymore.

“Guide Bond? We didn’t expect you--” it’s all Lambert manages to say before she’s forced back and a hand on her throat immobilises her against the surface of a nauseatingly beige wall. Her Guide stands up reflexively and spreads his hand towards the hostile Sentinel, most probably to zone him out before any harm comes to his own Sentinel. But Q is faster and stands in his way with his arms crossed on his chest, performing an efficient attack on the other Guide’s empathy, paralyzing him in place. Today the quartermaster is not deprived of the advantage of having his Sentinel close and his preternatural primacy over Lambert’s Guide is something the other man can’t overcome. Q allows himself to relish that moment. He knows that his Sentinel is in the same dominating position. Lambert is a Sentinel as well and not a weak one, but James is also an agent and that’s the most vital advantage on his side. She wouldn’t stand a chance in a combat against a double-oh.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here to stoop to violence,” Bond says although his hand stays around the woman’s neck. “I just want to give you some advice.”

Lambert’s Guide twitches but he knows he can’t pass by Q. If he makes another step towards the Sentinels, Q’s invasion of his empathy will turn from a warning to a painful attack.

“If you force my Guide to do anything against his will during my absence _ever again_ ,” continues Bond in a completely controlled voice. “I will come here to repeat _this_ but actually tighten my hand,” he says as his fingers shift a little against the Sentinel’s throat. “But don’t think this is me threatening you. No. I will start threatening _now_. I will make your Guide watch as I strangle you and then leave him here to lose his mind over your corpse.”

Q feels an unpleasant shiver against his spine at those words. The worst thing any bonded preternatural can imagine is losing their partner. But the grief usually doesn’t last too long. They fall into madness or take their own lives within days. Terrorizing Lambert with such a future for her Guide is an ultimate duress, worse than promising this fate to Lambert herself.

“I acknowledge your _advice_ ,” Lambert says without the strength that usually resides in her voice. Bond smiles wickedly and recoils his hand.

Q leaves behind Bond in silence, shielding himself from the bundle of negative emotions that fills up the room.

ж

They walk through Q-Branch completely composed and enter Q’s office without rush. But when the door closes with a soft click, Q pushes Bond against it and attacks his lips with a heated kiss because that _thing_ in Medical was creepy, but also extremely hot and well, they _are_ a perfectly matching fucked up pair. The Sentinel groans possessively into the other man’s mouth and pulls him even closer. When the trivial need for oxygen parts them, they settle for teasing brushes of lip against lip, mixing their breaths, and Bond tugs lightly at the hair on his Guide’s nape. They’re a little too drunk on their lethality but they’re definitely not going to think twice about it when they can simply savour the sensation.

A knock on the door is unwelcome, but needed, because Q really should get to work. Bond heads to occupy the guest’s chair while the Quartermaster accepts the manila folder that R delivers.

“Don’t you have anywhere to be?” Q asks as he sits into his chair.

“Oh, Quartermaster, are you throwing me out?”

“You’re distracting.”

The grin that follows the statement isn’t a surprise and Q snorts at the stupid expression on his Sentinel’s face. He turns his attention to logging into the system and browsing through the e-mails that piled up overnight.

"Moneypenny messaged me a few minutes ago,” Q says as he shifts his gaze from the screen to Bond. “M wants to see you as soon as possible."

The Sentinel sighs. "Well, looks like it’s time to get my scolding for making a little mess in Krakow."

Bond leaves with that, giving his Guide a parody of salute before closing the door to the Quartermaster's office. Q anticipates being filled with nervousness about his Sentinel facing the consequences of a screw up conditioned by their bond; about crossing the line with their baby steps and as a result becoming condemned by MI-6. The fear that hasn't ceased following them since they took the risk and bonded. But it doesn't come.

In the heat of the bonding they thought that once they were together, they'd be invincible. In reality they were weak and vulnerable after lowering their defences to let the other in. But it seems that after tripping over the first obstacles, they're finally heading in the right direction.

Q smiles and he _knows_ Bond's lips are curved in a predatory grin as well as he’s crossing the corridors towards M’s office.

They can’t say it's all perfect. They’d probably have difficulties with saying it's _good_ , because what has _really_ been good in their lives so far? And was it even living up to the definition of ‘good’? But wherever they are now and whatever they have, it's definitely better than they have ever known.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this fic as well as **the end of the whole series**.  
>  I've got some more ideas about this two together but I feel like writing another part will be forced on my part. It just feels good to end this here.  
> (Maybe some day the inspiration will hit and I wouldn't be able help it and I'll write sth more in this universe, but I won't promise anything.)  
> I really hope you enjoyed this series!

**Author's Note:**

> PS: I'm on [tumblr](http://missmho.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoodedmiho) if anyone wants to fangirl over Daniel Craig's eyes. ;>


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